


The one thing I hate.. Children.

by Raw_Braincell



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dream apologists will not enjoy this fic, Dream just gets fucking yeeted, Drista: for personal reasons, Gen, No dreamon possession here, Not drista, Possession, Purpled as an unwilling babysitter, Ranboo Deserves Better, Yeah but not dream just putting it out here, i will now commit every war crimes, its kinda obvious, just saying it rn, no mam/sir/the
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29453181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raw_Braincell/pseuds/Raw_Braincell
Summary: Basically, the au where-Drista and Tommy are related-Purpled gets unwillingly dragged to babysit a ton of warring teenagers- ranboo just Goes Through It, because sometimes you just gotta try to avoid wars at all costs (and then end up unwillingly starting one)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Ranboo & Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream's Sister Drista & Grayson | Purpled (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream's Sister Drista & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 28





	The one thing I hate.. Children.

Tommy, as far as he could remember, was an odd child. Said child, who was currently around fifteen years old, was definitely anything but usual. 

He couldn't remember much from before, if he was honest. He knew the realm he had lived in was a “brit” one, judged by the accent. He knew his family had lived on the peak of a mountain, and that his favorite things were red.

Those, he knew for sure, just as he knew about the world he lived in, about the endermen, about the magic that “players” possessed, and the ranking system. 

Admins. Immortal and unkillable beings, which were tasked with maintaining and controlling the worlds and portals, of whom could create worlds with a single thought. There were also halves- players, who, while still mortal and able to die, possessed totally epic superpowers- called “creative mode”, and were able to spawn any item they so wished. 

Tommy, while not being able to remember much, simply knew that. Like he knew that something had always been missing. 

Edgy backstory aside, another thing he _also _knew, was that he was completely, and utterly _fucked _.____

____D̶r̶i̶s̶t̶a̶_̶m̶i̶n̶e̶c̶r̶a̶f̶t̶ h̶a̶s̶ j̶o̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ t̶h̶e̶ s̶e̶r̶v̶e̶r̶._ _ _ _

____He could hear the sounds of the people across the server going into a panic._ _ _ _

____“The hell?” Sam muttered from beside him, peeking down. Tommy squinted through his slightly overgrown bangs, watching the horizon, his blood freezing over. Drista? Dreams _sister? _how the hell had she gotten on, especially if the bastard was in -___ _ _ _

______ _ _ _ _

______“This is bad.” Sam hissed, peeking at his communicator, the sounds of alerts being spammed. “Shit.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Drista: where the fuck is tommyinnit?_ _ _ _ _ _

______Oh _no _.___ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
